


Pride, Prejudice, and Porcupines

by mamabug



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Coming of Age, F/M, Love. Literature. And the occasional wild animal., Slow Romance, Teen Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-11-21 20:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11364987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamabug/pseuds/mamabug
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that Morinozukas marry, then fall in love with, the person their parents choose for them. It's worked for a 1000 years and Takashi knows it will work for him too. But... her? Dyed hair, prickly attitude, a rebellious streak wider than the Tama river - it had to be a mistake. They were incompatible. They'd never make a good match. Right? Right?





	1. The Thing That Goes 'Doink'

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what it is, but I love an 'arranged marriage' plotline. Something about starting a couple off on the 'extreme' difficulty setting just appeals to me. This story is a bit different from my usual fare as I'm setting things during the manga instead of post-canon.
> 
> The difficult thing about trying to set a story which follows the events of the manga is that Bisco Hatori looped time back on itself at least twice over the course of the series. I'm taking that as the freedom to arrange the timeline as I need to. The story starts off in summer, after the battle of Kuruizawa and before the School Festival.
> 
> Warning up front - this is rated T for a reason. I don't do explicit scenes, but married people will do married things and there will be other T-14 content and references to potentially triggering situations. I may or may not put a warning in front of an particular chapter depending on how spoilerish it would be.
> 
> Last, but not least - standard disclaimers apply. Ouran and it's characters belong to Bisco Hatori. Support the mangaka - buy the books or the DVDs.
> 
> If you like, please R&R

**"** _**I scanned more narrowly the real aspect of the building. Its principal** **feature seemed to be that of an excessive antiquity."**  
– Edgar Allen Poe, _ _The Fall of the House of Usher_

 

Natsumi stared up at the building looming above her. It was big.

No, not big. That was the kind of crappy, weak-ass adjective writing teachers went ballistic over. It was immense. Sprawling. Lavish. Something that bore more resemblance to an Edo era palace than a family home. And more than just a tad foreboding.

Who the hell was this guy?

Beside her, two men dressed like extras from _The Matrix_ stirred restlessly, as if any minute they'd take matters into their own hand and knock on the door themselves. Surprisingly, they hadn't shown the same enthusiasm in dropping her off as they had in escorting her into the car idling behind them. Probably had orders not to do anything that would make her look reluctant.

Why had Grandfather even thought they were necessary? It wasn't like she had anywhere else to go other than where he wanted her to. She hadn't even tried to run away from that *cough* _school_ *cough* he'd consigned her to for the month before her fateful sixteenth birthday. The place which had all the cheer and light of a standard Dickensian orphanage. The place which might as well have had the word 'Wayward' in between "The Satori School for" and "Girls."

Probably the henchmen were only there to guarantee she'd show up. To make sure it was known that _he_ hadn't been the one to break the contract.

Natsumi sucked in a lungful of air, threw back her shoulders and clutched the envelope in her right hand, adding more wrinkles to the once flawless paper. Enough equivocating - might as well get it over with. Hopefully, she'd be able to figure out a way not to have to be here for long. She'd been expelled from thirteen schools in three years, how hard could it be to get thrown out of a stuffy-looking place like this? The only trick would be in making sure it was the _other_ party who had to pay for breaking the agreement.

Piece. Of. Cake.

Stepping up to the pair of gleaming wooden doors carved in intricate patterns she looked around the frame in vain for anything as prosaic as a doorbell. Giving up with a shrug, she knocked.

The door opened before she'd rapped more than once. An elderly, kimono-clad gentleman opened the door just enough to block further entry and peered down at her with the pomposity only an old family retainer could muster. Scanning her from the bright pink bangs (roots grown out after a month without access to hair dye), down the God-awful, shapeless, navy sailor fuku (the height of fashion back in the Taisho era), to the tips of her ugly-as-sin penny loafers, his face took on a level of pinched disdain that rivaled an English butler.

"Can I help you?" He drawled in a voice that said he would gladly help her as far away from the door as was humanly possible.

His look, like she was something scraped off the bottom of a shoe, acted as a giant needle poking into the balloon of anger which had been roiling in her gut ever since the headmaster had called her into his office this morning and told her of her fate. She bristled – he had no right to cast judgement on her. _She_ wasn't the person insisting she be here. _She_ hadn't been the one to drag a sixteen-year-old girl halfway across Japan so some old guy could get his rocks off. _She_ wasn't the person in this scenario who should be regarded with contempt.

"Oi, gramps!" She threw his condescension back at him with force. "I'm Yoshida Natsumi and I'm here to marry Morinozuka-san. Gonna let me in now?"

She almost laughed at how quickly his face recomposed itself into implacability. "Of course, Yoshida-sama, please come in." The no-longer-sneering man bowed low, hitting the exact degree to show respect to the future wife of his master and not a centimeter further.

Her trepidation fled under the weight of the thinly banked rage settling over her like an old friend. Turning her head to call out over her shoulder, she waggled her fingers at her bodyguards with a smirk. "Thanks for the escort, boys." They melted away silently back to the limo, dropping her single piece of luggage on the doorstep as they departed.

Natsumi stepped over the doorstep into an entry way every bit as archaic as the exterior of the house. With her luck she'd wandered into some K-drama where crossing the threshold had thrown her back a thousand years in time. One with an arrogant, entitled jerk male lead that she'd end up falling for instead of the far more preferable, gentle, honorable second lead. Because time-travel apparently induced stupidity even in educated women who should know better.

Thankfully, a pair of sneakers amidst the cluster of shoes in the doorway assured her she was still in the twenty-first century.

The - butler? Majordomo? Grand Vizier? - provided her with a pair of guest slippers before ushering her down the wood-floored hallway. Ignoring his not-so-discrete attempt to hurry her along, Natsumi took the time to examine architecture she'd never seen outside of a historical site - where the crowds and harried school teachers trying to move their charges back outside before they destroyed a piece of their national heritage infringed on her ability to stare about like a yokel.

The hallway was bordered on the left side by two pairs of closed Shoji doors. Her hands itched to open them and peer inside, but she doubted her escort would allow that –even if she was his future mistress (alleged). Opposite the second set of doors, a hallway branched to her right and, if she craned her neck just so, she could see it led to a set of stairs leading up to the second floor.

When she finally conceded to complete the journey down the main hall, they emerged onto an engawa running the length of the exterior on the rear side of the house. The screens along the outside wall had been thrown open in the faint hope a summer breeze would stir the heavy air and defuse the heat of the August day.

Natsumi irritated her companion further by stopping to look around with blatant curiosity. Who knew when she'd get such a chance again?

The engawa headed off left down a corridor which looked long enough to fit at least three 18-mat tatami rooms before it veered at another 90-degree angle to run along the east wing. Not _side_ , wing. That was the kind of house this was – it had frickin _wings_.

The three sides of the house formed a blocky 'U' which framed a courtyard landscaped in - surprise, surprise – traditional Japanese style. Paved stepping stones led off in multiple directions, quickly disappearing behind flowering shrubs and brightly colored maples. Between the obscuring leaves, she caught a glimpse of water, hints of statuary and, far off in the distance past the edges of the house, larger trees that beckoned her to climb up and settle in their branches with a favorite book. It was like something out of a fantasy or a child's fairy tale.

It was almost enough to make her wish she could stay.

The retainer made a grumbling, coughing sound in his throat – a not so subtle hint that he wanted her to be somewhere else. Story of her life.

Opening a set of doors on the right, he gestured her to precede him into what was, for this house, a small room - merely eight tatami mats – containing a table, some cushions, and a beautiful, seasonal floral arrangement in an alcove set into the north wall.

"Please have a seat, Yoshida-sama. I will alert Morinozuka-sama to your presence." He crossed the room and opened the pair of screens on the outside wall which lead to another engawa and yet another garden. "I will bring you some tea while you wait."

Repressing a sigh at the lack of comfortable furniture, she dropped into seiza as gracefully as possible. "Don't bother," she replied more curtly than she intended. The beauty of the house had dispelled the resentment which had been carrying her through, leaving only agitation and a slightly queasy feeling behind.

Bowing, he exited the room and closed the doors behind him, leaving her with nothing to do but stare at the garden and brood. Well, try to brood. It was hard. The landscape beyond the open doors wasn't exactly brood-worthy. A good brood required sun-dappled forests brimming with shadows in which anything could lurk. Or jagged mountain peaks and gray skies threatening storms. Not a bunch of rocks that had been raked and combed within an inch of their lives. For Chrissake – there was even a thing that went 'doink.'

The steady 'doink' of the bamboo as it hit the rock echoed like the over-loud ticking of a clock as she waited. And waited. And kept waiting.

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

At some point the sound switched from annoying to relaxing and she settled deeper into seiza. She could hold this position for hours. Say what you would about Catholic nuns, but the sisters at her boarding school in Switzerland had _nothing_ on the headmaster at the last place. A man whose beliefs about discipline would have fit right in with the Imperial Japanese Army.

In the background, she heard the faint sound of voices coming from the room opposite her seat. Her intended groom? Probably. The room she was in screamed 'antechamber' and the room beyond was most likely his private domain.

The paper in her hand rustled as she gripped it even tighter.

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

The entire journey here, she had studiously avoided thinking about the cause for it. The reason she had been unceremoniously rousted from bed to find out she was leaving yet another school – although this time not at her instigation.

The sadistic, son-of-a-bitch abbot had practically gloated when he'd informed her that _'Due to your continual defiance and obstinacy, your grandfather, Maeda-sama, has determined that your need for discipline exceeds that of even this establishment. It pains me to admit that I agree. You don't need a school – you need a husband with a firm hand who can curb your recklessness. Your grandfather has arranged a marriage for you with a good family. One known for their adherence to the old ways. I encourage you to, for once in your life, accept your fate with graciousness and cease heaping dishonor on your family.'_

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

The worst thing was that she couldn't even disagree with what he'd said. Every accusation was true – she _was_ rebellious, stubborn, rash, wild… Between the fourteen schools she'd passed through from middle school until now, she'd heard all of that and more. And she'd deserved every one. But if whatever bastard Grandfather had found actually used that 'firm hand' on her, she'd take a knife to him.

The greasy, oily cannon-ball in her stomach grew heavier.

She couldn't believe she'd finally done it. Finally pushed her grandfather too far. Finally forced him to _act._ But… did he have to do _this?_ Had she really been that irredeemable? That much of a disappointment? She couldn't even answer that – he hadn't communicated with her in any way since she was six. No letters. No phone calls. Not even a stupid, chain email. The letter clutched in her hands was the closest she'd got, and even that was addressed to someone else.

_*gurgle, gurgle, gurgle – DOINK!*_

_*gurgle, gurgle, gur..._

"Natsumi-chan!" The door to the other room slid open to admit another traditionally dressed gentleman. "I'm so glad you've finally come to visit!" Taking a seat opposite her, he gave a smile that could warm a room in December. "I'm sorry we weren't prepared for your arrival, your grandfather didn't inform us he'd finally agreed to let you spend your summer break with us."

Natsumi reeled, trying to process that this seemingly good-natured man was her intended. And that he was implying an acquaintance with her that went back further than this morning.

Noticing her confusion, his smile turned a bit sheepish. "Ah… sorry, I forgot that you most likely wouldn't remember meeting me. I'm Morinozuka Akira."

Before she could stammer so much as a 'nice to meet you' the doors to the hallway opened again, admitting a young woman carrying a tray with a tea pot, two cups, and a bowl of what looked like homemade rice crackers. She was wearing a yukata. Of course.

Natsumi was tempted to slip out her cell phone just to double check that the bars still worked.

While the servant prepared the tea, Natsumi took the time to study the person she was meant to spend her life with. He was… much better looking than she'd expected. For his age. He had to be at least forty, maybe fifty. Dark hair, kind eyes, a slight resemblance to Sanada Hiroyuki, with a dignified bearing that didn't come across as arrogant. Not at all the type of person who she would have expected as needing to arrange a marriage.

But then, it was probably his _tastes_ and not his looks which had necessitated taking such a step.

Thanking the servant for the tea, Natsumi sternly reminded herself that it didn't matter that something about him reminded her of the smell of cedar, the sharp crack of bamboo staves, and the weight of a large hand ruffling her hair. It didn't matter that he had a fatherly smile and sympathetic eyes. Any middle aged man who contracted to marry a sixteen-year-old girl was nothing less than a stone cold pedophile. He didn't deserve _any_ deference from her. Any cooperation.

The maid departed and Morinozuka gestured at Natsumi to drink her tea. Selecting a rice cracker from the bowl, she bit into it. Definitely homemade – and very tasty – but it didn't settle her stomach. She could feel it, that dark, churning mass of emotion deep within, driving her to do… something. Anything. Anything that would make it stop. Anything that would let it ebb for just a little while.

"Does my grandfather owe you money?" She cursed herself the minute the question left her mouth but knew she wouldn't stop now that she'd started. She never could. Akira's eyes widened and she pressed on before he could reply. "Or did you pay him instead? I'm just curious, what does a teenage bride go for these days?"

The way his eyes crossed as his tea went down his wind-pipe was immensely satisfying to watch. For the first time since the day started, she felt a slim margin of control over her own life.

Morinozuka pounded on his chest with his fist and discretely coughed into a handkerchief. "I think... I think there's been a mistake. Natsumi-chan, are you..." He paused to thump on his breastbone again. "Are you under the impression that _I'm_ your fiancée?"

The feeling of control vanished like mist. "Ano… are... aren't you?" The letter in her hands grew more creases as she wrung it like the neck of a chicken. "I… I just…" The nausea was back, this time tinged with panic. She'd been so caught up in fighting against her grandfather's edict, in lashing out at being married off to a pervy old man, that she hadn't even stopped to consider what it might mean to offend him. If he threw her out, if it were _her fault_ that he threw her out, would there even be a place for her to go to?

Recovering from his coughing fit, Akira settled back on his heels, his face rearranging itself from startled to empathic. "Natsumi-chan, just what did you're grandfather tell you?"

"He didn't tell me anything." She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "The headmaster only told me that I was leaving school to be married."

She saw his fist tighten against his thigh and he turned his head to the side so she couldn't see his expression. Under his breath, he muttered what sounded like 'stubborn, old goat' before turning back to face her. "That letter you're holding onto for dear life, is that meant for me?" he asked in a tone generally reserved for talking people off a roof.

She nodded, sliding the crumpled paper across the table towards him. Opening it, he silently read though the contents, his mouth thinning into a straighter and straighter line with each word. "Damn that man," he said when done, shaking his head back and forth.

"Please, drink your tea." He motioned her to imbibe with the palm of his hand. "I would guess this has all come as a shock to you. Allow me to try and straighten things out. For one thing, the marriage contract wasn't arranged by your grandfather, but by your father, and it's not with me but with my son, Takashi. Don't worry." His eyes twinkled benevolently. "He's about your age. The two of you have been betrothed practically since birth."

Mention of her father threw her, made it impossible to hold on to the fury she'd been using as armor. She didn't remember much, she'd been so young when he died, but she'd filled the hole he'd left with countless girlish fantasies built around him. Around 'what if.'

"Your father was my kohai both at university and on the kendo team." Akira's face took on the distant look old people had when they started reminiscing. "He was one of the finest kendo-ka I've ever competed with. Or against. In my family, arranged marriages are the norm and, when I discovered Ryuu-kun's firstborn would be a girl, it felt like destiny."

His jaw clenched, slightly – but enough for Natsumi to register his annoyance. "I don't know why Maeda-san never told you any of this. You shouldn't have had to find out this way. Normally, you would have spent some of your school breaks with us. The two of you would have grown-up together. Gotten used to each other. But your grandfather refused every invitation…" With a sharp shake of his head, he cut himself off.

One deep breath later, the clouds had been chased off his face and the sunny smile returned. "Anyway, the past is in the past. What matters is that you are here now." He brandished the letter he'd been holding in his hand. "And it looks like your grandfather plans for you to stay. It's a bit late in the school year for a transfer, but I'm sure we can arrange for you to attend Ouran Academy with my sons despite that." Natsumi heard a faint 'scuff' from the hallway and Akira turned towards the door. "That must be our Takashi now. We can talk more later, I'm sure you have several questions and I would very much like the chance to get to know you better."

She was saved from having to respond to his uncomfortable solicitousness when the door slid open yet again, revealing a definitely-not-middle-aged man standing on the threshold. Unlike everyone else she'd met, he wasn't dressed as if he was starring in a period drama, although the black slacks and royal blue dress-shirt still smacked of formality. Then her eyes drifted up to his face and all thoughts of his wardrobe vanished.

He was the most handsome man she'd ever seen.

Damn it. Not handsome – another weak-ass adjective. Weak was NOT something this guy deserved. Besides, _handsome_ just didn't cut it. His attractiveness wasn't the androgynous, pretty-boy look everyone seemed to go for nowadays. His was old school. A real, old fashioned manliness that wouldn't be out of place in a Kurosawa film – like a young Nakadai Tatsuya or Hayakawa Sessue. In short, he was the man of her dreams.

Or rather, the _men_.

The dark, slightly disheveled hair of Mr. Darcy framed Rochester's stern looks and heavy brow from under which the gentle eyes of Gilbert Blythe peered out. Nose, cheekbones, and chin gave him a mien which balanced the stoic reserve of John Thornton with the patient steadiness of Almanzo Wilder, yet his soft, full lips held a hint of wildness and temptation to sin worthy of Heathcliff himself. And his body? Oh lord, his body was ALL the adjectives – from alluring right on down to yummy.

Natsumi's heart dropped right past the pit in her stomach, through the floor, and accelerated down towards the center of the earth. If this was supposed to be her fiancée, she had to be careful. Had to make sure to keep him at a distance while she tried to figure out how to get out of this and still have a place to call... no, not home. Her grandfather's house had never been her home in any sense of the word. Until she found a place to keep the rain out, then. Because if she didn't? If she let him get too close - it was going to hurt like hell when he abandoned her.

It always did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter titles are taken from common tropes. I'll put the explanation in the notes.
> 
> Chapter Title Trope Referenced: "The Thing That Goes Doink," used '...to establish that a Big Fancy House belongs to a family that is both traditionally Japanese and exceedingly wealthy...' (ref. TV Tropes)


	2. Yamato Nadeshiko

_**Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.  
** _ _\- A Wild Sheep Chase, Murakami Haruki_

Stepping out of the limo, Takashi rolled back his shoulders to ease the ache in his scapula and trapezius muscles. Practice had gone well, he was proud of his team. He'd pushed them hard in preparation of the upcoming competitive season but they had met his challenge full force. Rubbing the back of his neck and stretching it from side-to-side, he cast an unhappy glance at the clouds above him which, instead of giving relief, only seemed to trap the humidity in.

Early August and already the temperatures were climbing up past 30-degrees. It would be nice to be back Karuizawa, where the mountain air was 5 degrees cooler, relaxing with the rest of his friends. But the Host Club was for his own enjoyment, the Kendo team was his responsibility. He'd had to leave first - the team only allowed one week of free time before resuming an intense thrice-weekly practice schedule. They had a national title to defend, after all.

The other club members wouldn't miss him much anyway, except for Mitsukuni. They were all too busy trying to attract Haruhi's attention.

Satoshi stumbled out of the car beside him and began his own, slightly more dramatic, stretches. "Ouch! You were tough today, Onii-san," Satoshi said without rancor. During summer break, the middle school team joined their seniors' training once a week to practice competing against unfamiliar opponents. "Wanna hit the outdoor bath?"

"Too hot." The driver came around from the back and handed them their  _shinai_  cases. With a nod of thanks, Takashi walked to the front door and let himself inside.

Two steps into the  _genkan_ , his mother fluttered around the corner that led upstairs to the family's private quarters. "Takashi! Takashi, hurry – she's here!"

He continued taking off his shoes, waiting for his mother's words to inevitably catch up to her thoughts.

Morinozuka Kazumi shook her head as if to clear it. "Oh, what am I thinking – let me start at the beginning." She turned eyes brimming with excitement on him. "Natsumi-chan's here. She just arrived this afternoon."

His heart leapt up once before settling down. Forcing himself to stay calm, he placed his shoes so they faced out towards the door, and stepped up into the house.

"Takashi-nii's bride?" Satoshi peered around his brother's back. "Where? I want to meet her!"

"That will have to wait for dinner, your brother should be the first to say his greetings." She exhaled in a huff. "I don't know what her grandfather was thinking, not giving any notice like that. I don't have anything special prepared for dinner at all – and it's her birthday! We were just going to have  _somen_ and grilled mackerel _._ Oh! Satoshi, run over to the Haninozukas and see if Mitsukuni left them with any cakes before going on vacation.

"A cake should be enough, don't you think?" She peered at her sons uncertainly, her hands continuing to dance in the air like a dragonfly's wings. "Maybe I can send someone to the market for  _unagi…_ " With a shake of her head, she set the thoughts of meal preparation to one side and pushed ineffectually against the son who towered almost a full 40 centimeters over her. "Takashi, why are you still here? Go get changed. Ewww!" Getting a whiff of him, she wrinkled her nose and waved her hand in front of her face. "But take a shower first, you stink of kendo."

"Hn." He nodded, heading up the stairs to his room. Once inside, he shut the door and leaned back against it, taking deep breaths to center himself.

She was here! After all this time, he finally would see her again. His lips turned up at least a quarter of a centimeter on both sides – look at him, so excited he was practically giddy. Taking another breath, he forced tension out of his shoulders and tried to quiet his racing heart. It had been so long since their last meeting that he might as well be making a first impression all over again. It had to be a good one. The last thing he wanted was to come across as over-eager – girls didn't seem to like that.

Stepping into the shower, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd be the same as he remembered. With a head shake that sent water droplets spattering against the tile, he corrected himself. Of course, she would. People grew and matured, but their essential character remained the same. He just knew that the girl he'd met so many years ago would be as perfect now as she was back then.

* * *

_**Ten Years Ago** _

" _Akira-sempai, I'm glad you could come." The brown-haired stranger was almost as tall as his father, but the young boy noted he was much thinner. Almost scrawny. "I'm sorry for putting you through the trouble."_

" _It was no trouble, Ryuu-kun." Even at eight, Takashi could see the pain behind his father's smile. "I had business in Osaka anyway and thought it would be a good chance for these two to meet." Akira gestured between his eldest son and the girl standing by her father's side before turning to address the children next to him. "Boys, I'd like you to meet my kohai, Yoshida Ryuu."_

_Takashi bowed low, introducing himself in the most formal way he knew how. It was important to get this right. Important that both the girl and her father think well of him. As far back as he could remember, he'd known that one day he and Yoshida Natsumi would be husband and wife. It was all arranged, just like his parents' marriage had been. And his grandparents', and his aunts', uncles', cousins', and every Morinozuka's ever - stretching all the way back to the sons of Morinozuka Goro himself. Back to the days when Oda Nobunaga ruled._

_After Satoshi's polite 'nice to meet you,' Yoshida returned their greeting and prompted his children to do the same. Natsumi softly said her name and bowed her head, ducking it so fast Takashi barely got a look at her - only a quick impression of big brown eyes peering out of a tiny face, putting him in mind of a docile animal. A bunny, maybe, or a doe. Wrapping her arm around the little boy next to her, Natsumi studied the three Morinozuka men from under lowered lashes._

_Definitely a doe, Takashi decided – skittish and wary of strangers but protective of her younger family members._

_When it was his turn, her brother refused to speak, clenching his jaw and jutting out his lower lip. Natsumi's hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head, pushing it down in a bow. "This is my brother, Tastsuya." Her eyes communicated an apology for his rudeness and Takashi's good impression of her only grew._

" _Congratulations, Sempai, I heard you'll represent Tokyo in the All Japan Kendo Championship this year," said her father once introductions were complete. The longer sentence gave him trouble and he coughed violently into his handkerchief, struggling for breath._

_Akira patiently waited for him to finish, politely not talking over his ragged exhalations. "It would be better if I could meet you there in the finals, like we'd always planned."_

_The other adult shrugged and smiled with only one side of his mouth. "What was it Takahira-sensei used to say – after rain falls, the ground hardens?" His smile faded. "Although lately it feels more like a deluge that washes away all in its path."_

" _Takashi," said the elder Morinozuka, "It's a nice day. Why don't the four of you go play. Adult talk is always boring for children."_

_Takashi inclined his head, obedient to his father's discretely worded command, and ushered his charges towards the playground and away from the bench which the two men sat down at._

" _Onee-chan, I don't wanna play," whined Tatsuya when they were out of earshot, stomping his foot for emphasis, "It's cold. I wanna go home."_

_Both Morinozuka brothers raised their eyebrows at this. Even though it was October, the temperature was still above 20 – easily 5 degrees higher than Tokyo._

" _I know, Tatsu-chan, but please be good!" Casting her eyes back to where their fathers were engaged in an intense conversation, she lowered her voice. "Papa's been looking forward to seeing his friend all week. If we go now, he'd be sad."_

_Tatsuya crossed his arms and his pout deepened._

_Satoshi bounced up next to the unhappy child. "Tatsuya-kun, let's go down the slide! I know how to go really, really fast. I'll show you!"_

_The younger boy shook his head violently back and forth. "Don't wanna. Slides are scary."_

" _How about the sandbox," his sister wheedled, "We can build a fort and play siege. You like that."_

" _No. That's all dirty."_ _He sneered. "Oji-chan says only_ peasants _get their hands dirty."_

_Natsumi's lower lip quivered and Takashi wanted to scold the little boy for being so troublesome. "Please, Tatsu-chan," she whispered, hitching her voice on a sob, "Please be good for Papa. If… if you play nicely until it's time to go, I'll… I'll ask him to get us some_ dango _on the way home…." Her voice trailed off pleadingly._

" _Ice cream," he countered, "I want ice cream." Smugness washed over him when she nodded. Takashi guessed this had been his goal all along._

" _Thank you, Tatsu-chan, thank you," she said, more grateful than she should be to the little beast._

" _I wanna play on the swings," declared the little emperor, "Onee-chan, push me!"_

_She started to head towards the swings, but Takashi stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Satoshi can push." Silently, his eyes asked the youngest Morinozuka to take charge of the misbehaving child._

_Satoshi beamed back. "Sure thing, Onii-san!" He grabbed Tatsuya's arm and pulled him toward the swing set before the younger child could act up again._

" _Spoiled." Takashi stated under his breath._

_Natsumi whirled on him, hands clenched into fists at her side. "He is not! He just… he just acts a bit babyish sometimes. He only just turned four!"_

" _Satoshi's four too." His brother would turn five in a couple of months, making him almost a full year older, but even last year he never acted like that. Satoshi was a good kid._

_Tears gathered at the edge of her eyes, threatening to spill over and guilt hit him like a_ bokken _to the stomach. He hadn't liked the way the boy treated his sister, but all he was doing by saying anything was make her feel bad. "I'm sorry." He ducked his head. "I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it."_

_As fast as her fury had appeared, it vanished. "No. It's okay." She bit her lip and watched the ground. "I know he's spoiled. But…"_ _Her shoulders curved inwards, making her seem even tinier, reminding him of the kitten he'd found abandoned in the park last winter – straggly and cold and needing someone to protect it. "But Papa works hard so he's too tired to play when he comes home and Mama… all Mama does anymore is cry. Tatsu-chan doesn't know any different but I had two whole years with them before… before…"_

_She shrugged and let the sentence die. "If I spoil him, it's to make up for that. To make up for the fact that he only has me to take care of him."_

" _Who takes care of you?" Takashi asked quietly._

" _Silly!" She laughed and shook his question off. "I'm the big sister. I take care of myself."_

_He opened his mouth to say that he'd take care of her. That he'd chase the shadows away from her eyes. She was his bride so that was his job, right? But, he was only eight. He couldn't make her any promises – not yet. Not until he grew up. So, he said it the only way he could. "Let's play."_

_Her face lit up and then fell again. "I should watch my brother."_

" _Satoshi will watch him." He nodded to where Tatsuya seemed to be playing happily with the other boy now that ice cream was involved._

_Her teeth worried her lower lip again. It was kind of cute. "Okay. Maybe for a little bit."_

_Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he tugged her to the opposite end of the playground from the swings._ _She dug her heels into the play chips. "Where are we going?"_

" _The merry-go-round." When he'd suggested they play, her eyes had gone straight toward it._

_All resistance ceased and soon they were racing for it hand in hand._

" _Get on, I'll get it started," he offered when they arrived. She jumped up to stand on the edge, facing towards the center, and held the railing tight with both hands._

_Takashi grabbed the rail to her right and began running counter-clockwise with all his might. The merry-go-round went faster, and faster, and faster still. Natsumi leaned back as far as she could go. As it picked up speed, she dropped her right hand off the bar, stretching it out and angling her body into the wind._

" _Takashi-kun, it's wonderful!" she cried, "Get on!"_

_He jumped on the toy, stretching himself flat on the bottom so he could feel the vibrations rumbling all up and down his spine and cushioning his head on his hands so he could watch her. The wind whipped her hair around her like a cloud. Rather than cringing from it, she somehow stretched her arms even wider as if to embrace it, tilted her head back and laughed._

_Right then and there, Takashi lost his heart._

* * *

That had been the last time, the only time, they had ever met. A few months later, her father died and she was sent to boarding school in Switzerland. While waiting for the day they'd come face-to-face again, he'd treasured that one memory like a precious jewel – tucking it in a deep, hidden corner of his soul and bringing it out as needed to examine it. Each time, discovering some new beauty in it.

While other boys his age had obsessed over  _gravure_  idols or become infatuated with their classmates, his dreams had been grounded in reality. Built around the woman who would be his wife. A woman who was kind, modest, and dutiful. Who had a gentle spirit, yet would fight for those she loved like a tigress. One who possessed the kind of inner strength that let her stare the wind down and laugh. A true  _yamato nadeshiko –_ a flower of Japanese womanhood.

Shower over, he wrapped a towel around his waist while assessing his closet. He should wear his  _hakama_ , it would be traditional for a first formal meeting, but it would probably be too much. Too close to wedding clothes. It was only a summer visit, after all. He didn't want to freak her out. Still, the occasion did call for something nicer than the athletic wear he typically wore. Flipping through hangers, he settled on a pair of slacks and a dress shirt.

After one last futile attempt to get his hair to lie flat, he headed downstairs to meet his destiny.

* * *

Her hair was pink.

And blue. Green. Purple. Some orange. And every other color imaginable. But, besides the roots, the closest thing to a natural color was the strand of fire engine red behind her right ear. Cumulatively, it didn't look dyed so much as what you would get if you gave a toddler a box of crayons.

Where had the girl from his memories gone? Had she really changed that much or were his memories only an illusion? A fantasy built up over time.

While the son studied the sullen figure sitting across from him, the father shouldered the burden of facilitating a conversation between someone who wasn't good with words and someone who didn't want to talk. "Takashi, Natsumi-chan's grandfather has sent her to live with us. Now that both of you are of age, he sees no reason to delay the marriage."

"Hn."

With relief, Takashi noted her face was just as cute – tiny and heart-shaped with delicate features and skin as luminescent as a pearl – then he immediately felt ashamed. Looks weren't important. Or they shouldn't be. Not when compared to character. But a part of him whispered that it wasn't a bad thing to be attracted to your wife.

And he most definitely was.

Although the dress she wore was shapeless, it poked out in all the right places. Estimating her height, he placed her at a couple of centimeters taller than Honey and shorter than Haruhi. Just his type – tiny and curvy with big brown eyes.

But her hair was pink!

"I don't see any reason to rush things, though." Akira continued in what had become a monologue. "Arranged marriages may be our family tradition, but  _child_  marriages aren't. Natsumi-chan we'll be pleased to have you stay with us while you finish high school. Think of it as a good opportunity for the two of you to become acquainted. For all of us to get to know you better."

"Mmm."

The eyes. That was where the real difference was. What made it impossible for him to reconcile the past Natsumi with the present. No longer soft and gentle, they observed the world from behind a wall. He couldn't help thinking of the time he'd come across a squirrel that had won the fight to escape a neighborhood dog before collapsing on the ground from its injuries. As he'd wrapped it in his blazer to take to the vet, its eyes held that same far-off stare. As if looking at something only they could see.

"I suppose you've both had enough of an old man blathering on." Akira's voice was tinged with amusement. "Okaa-san should have dinner ready soon, Takashi why don't you show Natsumi-can around so she knows where everything is."

"Yes, Otou-san." They both rose to their feet and Takashi motioned for her to precede him out the door.

She didn't say a word, either of acknowledgement or thanks or leave taking.

Outside the audience room, he gestured down the hallway to his right. "My father's office is next door. Down around the corner from it is a meditation room. Feel free to use it anytime. It and the rest of this wing are also open to the students and servants who live here." Her nose wrinkled slightly at the word 'meditation' before she caught herself and resumed her air of indifference.

"These four rooms are for entertaining and meetings," he pointed at the two doors down the hall toward the front door and the first two along the  _engawa_ running the length of the main section. "The third door at the end is the dining room. We have both family and formal meals there. Across the hall, in the corner of the east wing, is the kitchen."

Natsumi didn't even nod, just filed it all away as impassively as Kyoya at his most opaque.

Turning to a side cupboard, he pulled out two pairs of outdoor shoes and handed the smaller set to her. "I'll show you the garden." Was it his imagination, or did the edge of her mouth lift up the smallest amount? He didn't think so - her speed at sitting down on the edge of the  _engawa_  to trade out her slippers bordered on eager.

Winding their way through the gardens, he had to walk slow. Natsumi kept trailing behind and he'd turn around to catch her stopped in the middle of the path, eyes roaming over some feature he'd walked past so many times he'd ceased to notice it. He was glad she didn't look at him. If she had, she would have caught the faint smile on his face, seen his pleasure that something was able to stir her feelings. Instinct warned him that the minute she realized she'd allowed something to slip past her guard she'd quickly shutter it away again. When they walked by the pond, she stared for five full minutes at the Koi gathering around the edge – trained by years of experience to associate a human shadow with food. This time her apathy fell away enough for the tiniest of smiles to appear before returning so quick he wasn't sure it had ever left at all.

Past the gardens were the dojos. "Classes for advanced students are held in the two larger buildings; the smaller one in the middle is for family use and private lessons. Back behind the trees is the dormitory for the servants and students who live here full time. Next to it is an outdoor bath you can use, but check with father or mother first. There are a lot of men about the estate."

A kendo class was in progress in the west dojo, the sharp crack of bamboo swords hitting against each other and bellowed  _kiai_ wafted out of the wide open windows and doors. Natsumi's steps faltered as they neared, her head turning as if drawn by an invisible rope. As if she couldn't help but peek inside. "Your father was a kendo-ka. Did he train you?" It was the first personal question he'd asked.

She shrugged, not looking at him. "Maybe. I don't remember."

"Do you want to learn?"

The eyes that flew to his face glowed with anticipation. For a second, he thought he'd found the girl from his memory again, but the light was quickly extinguished and she looked away. "You don't have to do this, you know."

"Hn?"

"You don't have to try and be nice to me. I mean – this is the twenty-first century, not the Edo era. An arranged marriage? It's archaic. Like something out of a badly written Victorian novel. So, it's okay. I'm not expecting you to act like a doting boyfriend or anything. I'm sure you don't want to marry a stranger any more than I do. I bet if we just ride this out, the whole thing will get called off soon, anyway."

Takashi could only stand there and blink while his mind reeled. Over the years he'd worried her feelings might be slower to develop than his. Worried that they might not ever meet again until they were adults. Even worried (just once but he still felt shame over it) that she might not be pretty anymore. But never once had he thought she might not want this.

Or that he might be having second thoughts himself.

He wanted to say that this was his family's tradition and he believed in it. That for over a thousand years, this way had been successful. That Morinozukas married then fell in love with the person their parents chose for them.

But he held back.

Maybe she had changed or maybe he just didn't remember things the way they were. But all the traits he'd admired about her, that he'd expected to see in her, were nowhere to be found. Or buried so deep they might as well not exist. Without compatibility, without mutual commitment – was a successful match even possible?

A small tendril of doubt wound its way around his heart like a strangling vine, choking off the faith which had always sustained him. Perhaps, just perhaps, his parents had made a mistake.

Unable to say any of that, what he said instead was, "We've met."

That seemed to throw her, uncertainty softening her jaded eyes. "We did? When?"

"Ten years ago. In Osaka. You were…" Different. Sweeter. More hopeful. "…younger."

"Oh." She twirled a green strand of hair around her fingers before tucking it back behind her ear. "That was long ago. I don't really remember much from back then." Somehow he knew she was lying. "Well, that doesn't really change things, though, does it?" For the first time, she smiled - a tight, bleak lifting of the lips. "Look, I'll promise to stay out of your way and you can stay out of mine. You seem a nice guy - tall and good-looking, too - you probably have your pick of girls. You don't want to be saddled with someone like me. Don't worry, I don't think I'll be here to bother you much longer."

Overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts and feelings, he couldn't sort them out fast enough to respond.

"I'm tired, it was a long trip, and I'm not very hungry. I'm just going to go to bed." Turning to walk back to the house, she stopped him when he made a move to follow. "It's okay, you don't need to escort me. I'll ask one of the servants to show me to my room."

He watched her until she vanished down the path, confusion and doubt warring within him. For the first time in his life, the future stretched before him was filled with uncertainty.

And he didn't like it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's already kudo'd or bookmarked this story and especially to those who've left a review.
> 
> Chapter Title Trope Referenced: "Yamato Nadeshiko," defined as a 'Traditional Japanese ideal woman: submissive, but not a pushover.' (ref. TV Tropes)


	3. Chapter 3

_**I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading! How much sooner one tires of any thing than of a book!  
** _ _\- Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen_

* * *

Book in hand, Natsumi slipped out the back door and scurried down the garden path, hoping she'd gone far enough for the foliage to shield her from view. She wasn't trying to hide or anything – it was just a lovely morning and the trees back behind the dojos looked inviting. It would be relaxing to while away the day reading up in the branches, that's all.

" _Anata_ , have you seen Natsumi-chan?" trilled a high-pitched soprano from the west wing, "I wanted to take her shopping. Only one suitcase, can you believe it? A teenage girl needs more clothes than that."

Shit. Natsumi ducked behind a flowering Japanese quince. Okay, so she was hiding. She had to, the family was just so damn…  _nice_! It was self-defense.

They all acted as if they were genuinely excited about her being there - well, except for her taciturn groom who mostly pretended he wasn't surreptitiously checking her out - and they just wouldn't leave her alone. Last night, even though she'd pleaded fatigue, the mother had managed to guilt her down to dinner anyway, turning her every excuse against her in some advanced form of verbal Jiu-Jitsu. Next, the father had spent the entire meal telling story after story about his and Ryuu's college days. And  _then_  they'd gone and celebrated her birthday.

Her birthday!

The last person to do that had been a house mother who felt sorry for the foreign kid stuck at school between terms. She'd been ten.

It didn't make any sense. They were rich enough that they had to have done a background check and, no matter who her father was to them, she shouldn't have been let past the front gate. That they might know everything and still want her as a daughter-in-law was too terrifying to even contemplate.

Because, sooner or later, she was going to screw it up.

It wasn't like she had  _tried_  to be expelled from thirteen schools in three years. At least six or seven of them had been tolerable, two more had been places she'd wanted to stay. But somehow, even if she tried to behave, she soon found herself doing something that had her unceremoniously dumped on a train, plane, or car ride to somewhere else. As welcoming as the Morinozukas seemed, she had to keep her distance. Because whoever had said  _'it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all'_  was an idiot. It was far, far better not to get attached in the first place.

"No, I haven't," Akira answered his wife as Natsumi cowered behind a bush, "I'm sure she's around somewhere. Perhaps, she just needs some time to herself for a bit. Finding out you've been engaged for sixteen years without realizing it is a lot to process."

"I suppose." Kazumi sounded like a little kid denied a cookie. "It's just so nice to have someone around the place who doesn't dress in track suits and smell of the dojo." Natsumi's eyes were drawn down to the plain white t-shirt and black school running shorts she'd thrown on. Not exactly a track suit, but… The soft thud of someone dropping into  _seiza_  was accompanied by a loud, dramatic sigh. "Ah! Every time I think of it, I just get so angry. It was bad enough  _that man_  didn't let her visit, but not to have even told her…"

"Kazu-chan…" The endearment held a note of rebuke.

"Oh, I know. I know – I shouldn't speak ill of Takashi's in-laws, but really!" Determining the elder Morinozukas were occupied, Natsumi started to sneak away. "I even invited her mother over for tea this weekend and was told by a servant that she wasn't available. A servant! You'd think we were beggars the way they act."

Mama? They'd been in touch with her mama? Natsumi froze in her tracks, desperate to hear more. None of her letters, none of her calls had been answered since the day a maid had put her on the plane to Switzerland. Any word of how her mother and brother were doing was yet another piece of information withheld by her grandfather.

Akira grunted. "Maeda Tatsuo is stubborn, inflexible, and thinks his family still holds the prominence it did under Tokugawa. The only thing he wants from us is our name. Our lineage. Since the engagement contract is signed, he sees no reason to act towards us with more than the most basic civility. And the only thing Shizuko-chan ever defied her father over was Ryuu-kun."

"Hmph! It's just not right - no matter how much you try to explain it to me." Another exaggerated sigh _._ "I've been so looking forward to having a daughter - is it such a bad thing to want to spoil her?"

There was a thump and a rustling sound and an outraged cry of, "Aki!"

"So cute." Akira's voice rumbled low and smooth. "My little tiger's found another cub to protect."

"Mmm… Aki…."

Natsumi duck-walked away as quickly as she could, breaking into a jog as soon as it was safe enough to stand. It was one thing to eavesdrop on things related to her but another to peep on a couple's…  _intimate_  moments. Besides, the whole conversation left her feeling like a cannonball had taken up permanent residence in her stomach.

The coast seemed clear as she charted her way past the koi pond toward the oak tree dominating the stretch of land behind the dojos. The one with limbs that curled and dipped and climbed like something in a story written by an author who only used their first initials. The one that should have a name starting with a capital letter and be inhabited by an entire colony of magical folk. The one that beckoned for her to crawl up as high as she could, nestle her back against the solid trunk, and lose herself in another world.

Halfway there, her feet slowed to a stop. A rhythmic chanting wafted out of the smallest building, the one set aside for family use. It tugged at her memory, like a half-forgotten lullaby. Quietly, she tip-toed up on to the  _engawa_ , careful to avoid being spotted through the open window. Contorting her body into a half-crouch, she poked her head up over the window sill and gasped.

Takashi, clad in a  _gi_ and  _hakama_  of such a dark blue they were nearly black, stood in the center of the room in a beam of sunlight. Dust motes twirled and danced around him as he lifted his bamboo sword over his head while stepping forward, brought it down with a swift motion and a shout while bringing his feet together, and then repeated the action in the opposite direction.

Mesmerized, she forgot her caution and lifted her head higher. It was repetitive, yet done with such complete and utter focus it transformed each swing into something unique. A discrete act, complete and perfect, an intersection of strength and grace. Transfixed by the beauty of it, Natsumi couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Spying on my brother?"

Her yelp reverberated off the corridor between the buildings and she jumped back so fast only Satoshi's quick reflexes kept her from whacking him in the chin with her head. The figure inside didn't alter his routine in the slightest.

"No, I…" Curiosity overwhelmed her caution. "What is he doing?"

" _Suburi._  Practice swings for Kendo," he explained. Satoshi's eyes grew wide in adoration. "Onii-san does  _two thousand_  of them every day!"

She choked back on a snicker, Satoshi's brother worship was kind of adorable. "So… I guess that's a lot, then?"

His head bobbed enthusiastically, oblivious to her sarcasm. "Most people try for five hundred to a thousand. I can do fifteen hundred but I've been practicing since I was three. What's really amazing about Onii-san is that his last swing is as perfect as his first!"

Natsumi turned her head to hide her smile. Of all the family, this one was the hardest to guard against. Something about him induced an urge to pat him on the head. Or feed him a cookie.

Tilting her head, she watched Takashi execute a few more swings. "Oh, that's why it seemed familiar," she murmured to herself, "I think I remember watching Papa do those." The memory was vague, nothing more than hazy images and half-remembered sounds. She couldn't have been more than four or five at the time.

"Otou-san says your father was one of the best." Natsumi jerked out of her reverie and swung back around to face the boy. "Why haven't you trained? Don't you want to?" He asked softly, as if the very idea that she wouldn't want to follow in her father's footsteps shocked him.

It was a line of questioning she usually shut down. Hard. But, staring into the open, genuine face of the youngest Morinozuka, Natsumi just couldn't find it in her to be rude. Being mean to him would be like kicking an over-sized, adolescent Black Lab. "I tried to take classes once. The headmistress said my grandfather refused permission – he doesn't think martial arts are ladylike."

Satoshi snorted. "Don't let my parents here you say that," he grinned, "My father says he fell in love when Okaa-san won a college championship final with the most perfect  _men_  cut he'd ever seen."

Natsumi lips twitched, her imagination caught by the image of her grandfather trying to tell the small, bird-like woman who carried herself with the grace of an empress that kendo wasn't  _ladylike._  She'd probably decapitate him with an  _ikebana_ arrangement. "I thought your parents had an arranged match?"

"Yeah, of course. My grandmothers were best friends and always dreamed of uniting their families."

"But…." She wasn't sure how to articulate what she wanted to ask. Not without being offensive. She'd attended boarding schools for the privileged all her life, she was no stranger to arranged marriages. But those polite, business-like unions were a world apart from the fondness, and the passion, she'd witnessed between Akira and Kazumi.

"Oh! I get it." Satoshi's eyes widened as he grasped what she didn't say. "We're not like other families," he explained, "Our parents don't pick a marriage partner to cement a business relationship or a family alliance. They pick the person they think is best for us. Love is… kind of expected."

The whole idea was just plain weird. And strangely seductive. She'd never been considered 'best' for anything, let alone anyone. But, before she could allow the illusion to take hold, reality gave her a sharp slap. She'd been engaged as a baby, before she had a personality at all. Satoshi painted a romantic picture, but it was false. A pretty lie passed on as family tradition. A brief surge of disappointment coiled around her heart but she ruthlessly pushed it aside.

The minute she forgot that she was no good was the minute she set herself up for heartbreak.

"Well, I was just going to…" She waved the arm holding her book in the direction of the tree line, trying to find a way to extricate herself from the conversation before it became even more uncomfortable.

"What's this?" Satoshi snatched the book out of her hand with lightning speed. "Oh, wow! Your English is good enough to read a full novel?"

"Uh… yeah. I attended British boarding schools for a few years. And Swiss. But they were for international students so most of the instruction was in English."

"So cool! That's my worst subject. Onii-san gets top marks in both that  _and_ Mandarin." Satoshi dropped down on the  _engawa_  and swung his feet back and forth of the edge. "I always thought boarding school would be fun. Hanging out with your roommates, prank wars, inter-house rivalries, sneaking out after curfew - just like Hari Potta!"

"Eh, it was more like  _'Lord of the Flies'_  most of the time." He still had her book so she was forced to sit next to him. "Although, if you take away the magic, Hogwarts is just a bunch of kids confined to a drafty castle in the middle of nowhere with a near criminal lack of adult supervision. So, about the same I guess."

"I think I'd miss my family too much, though." Satoshi rambled on, taking no notice of her cynicism. "But if Yasuchika was there, and Takashi-nii and Mitsukuni-nii too, then it would be okay. Did you?"

She blinked. He was giving her conversational whiplash. "Did I what?"

"Miss your family."

Desperately. "A bit. It got easier," she lied.

"It must have been hard coming back to Japan. Leaving all your friends behind."

She shrugged. "Not really. None of the European schools I went to lived up to my grandfather's expectations." They had never managed to turn her into whatever it was he wanted. "I switched every year or so. I wasn't at the last one long enough to make friends."

Immediately, she could see from the pained look on his face that she'd said too much. Now he was going to think he had to get all touchy-feely and sympathetic over her alleged tragic childhood. Yet another reason it was better to keep folks at a distance - damn her stupid weakness for people that resembled cute animals.

Jumping off the porch, she held her hand out towards him. "Can I have my book back now?" she snarled, firmly putting the wall between them back in place.

"Oh, sure." He stopped in the middle of handing it over to puzzle out the title. "Preed and Preedj-you-deese?" he sounded out in an atrocious accent. His brow wrinkled with the effort of translating the words into Japanese. "Oh! I've heard of this. It's a chick book."

"It is not!" She grabbed it back, unconsciously checking it over for signs of damage. At his wounded expression, her shoulders sagged. "Well, I mean – it  _is_  a romance," she conceded, "But it's so much more. It's about class and marriage and social expectation. About self-discovery. About first impressions and about finding out what's really important even if it's not the same as what the world tells you is." His eyes laughed at her and she could feel heat rising from her neckline all the way up to the roots of her hair. It was so much easier being thought a bad girl than a literature  _otaku_. "Anyway," she mumbled, "I like it."

Satoshi held up his hands, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean anything bad by that." He grinned disarmingly. "Takashi-nii likes romances too. ' _Romance of the Three Kingdoms'_ and stuff like that." His eyes grew wide again. "He can read the ' _Tale of Genji'_ in the original!"

She felt a laugh coming on and stifled it. He was impossible to stay mad at, especially when she was forcing her anger in the first place. "That's… a different kind of romance." 'Cause Genji? Was a total man-whore.

"Is it?" He shrugged. "I mostly only read manga. But it's cool you like these things. Didn't realize you were the type."

"Yeah, well I have hidden depths," she snarked.

Abruptly, Natsumi realized the shouting coming from within the dojo had ceased. Her heartrate accelerated, of all the Morinozukas the one she wished to avoid the most was the boy who made her stomach do acrobatics worthy of an Olympic gymnast every time his eyes met hers.

"I'm… I'm leaving first," she mumbled, turning to run off before Satoshi could reply.

* * *

Hidden depths.

_Kamisama_ , he hoped that was true – because if she didn't…. Takashi shook his head and headed to shower and change.

He hadn't meant to listen in. Although he'd been aware of her presence from the minute she'd poked her head up over the window, learning to ignore distraction was part of his training. It was only when he stopped his practice that he was unable to avoid overhearing the tail end of their conversation.

Entering the changing room, he shrugged off his  _gi_ and started to toss it into the designated laundry bin. Frowning, he examined it closer and sighed. He'd worn it inside out. Mentally he traced back over his practice, using his fingers to count off sets. Ah! He'd done two extra sets of  _haya suburi_  and skipped one of the basic  _kote_  strikes entirely.

Removing the  _hakama_  he carefully folded it so the pleats would be preserved, all the while mentally berating himself for his lack of concentration. It wasn't surprising, any inner turmoil he felt tended to manifest externally in lapses like that. At least it hadn't occurred during a match – the last time he'd let himself get into this state Mitsukuni had given him a lecture. And a minor concussion. Not in that order.

He needed to regain his inner harmony, and soon, before his inattention became a danger to himself and others. But how? Not even his meditation this morning had helped him to bring the war raging within him to a resolution.

On one side were arrayed the forces of family responsibility, faith in a tradition that had worked for a thousand years, his own hopes for the future, and the way something deep inside him tightened whenever he looked into those doe-brown eyes.

On the other side was the not insignificant fact that she just didn't seem to like him. And he wasn't altogether sure he liked her.

She was sullen, uncommunicative (and he recognized the irony of that accusation), and the most guarded person he'd ever met - including both Kyoya  _and_  the Hitachiin brothers. At least the twins were  _trying_  to allow people in their closed off world and Ootori's façade was a charming one. Nothing at all like his surly, apathetic bride.

He knew that just because she wasn't what he expected, what he'd hoped for, it didn't mean she wasn't someone he could learn to get along with. But how would he know if he couldn't close the distance between them? He didn't question that it was up to him to do so, this whole thing was too new to her. She'd be taking her cue from him and, if he allowed their current relationship to stand, the marriage wouldn't happen.

Because regardless of family tradition, he wouldn't drag an unwilling woman to the altar.

The problem was, he had no idea where to start. He didn't have Mitsukuni's or Tamaki's ability to batter their way through someone's defenses to befriend them. In fact, most of the time, he was in the exact opposite situation. The clients in the Host Club viewed his natural reserve as shyness and were always trying to bring him out of his shell. His teammates in the Kendo and Judo clubs considered him aloof and worked extra hard to elicit a word of praise.

Truth was, he wasn't shy or aloof – he simply didn't believe in saying anything he didn't mean.

Most people talked too much. They buried truth under a flurry of words, using them as both weapon and shield. Constantly telling themselves little lies. ' _I'll do it tomorrow.' 'I didn't mean to.' 'It's not my fault.'_  He would rather people judge him the same way he did them - by what they  _did_. Actions were the only real proof of a person's true character. The only way to know their heart.

After a quick shower, he changed into maroon basketball shorts and a white, sleeveless tee with a shoe brand emblazoned across the front. It was too hot even for a  _yukata_. Stepping out of the building, his eyes searched the tree line, not stopping until he spotted a blaze of unnatural color high up in the old oak tree. He wasn't quite sure how he had known that's where she'd be, tucked up as high as she could climb with the book she'd defended so passionately.

A love of Jane Austen was a pretty thin thread on which to hang the beliefs and expectations of a lifetime, but right now it was all he had.

The responsible thing, the mature thing, would be to go talk to her. Or at least try to before she found a way to shoot him down. But, despite a year in the Host Club, charming women was simply not in his repertoire. He'd never had a desire to be more than polite to his guests. Anyway, all those romantic words Tamaki spouted were just another type of lie. Harmless illusions that satisfied some need in both the Host King and his guests.

The reasons why his feet turned towards the house instead were something he didn't think he'd be able to uncover even after an hour of meditation.

* * *

"Oh, Takashi, there you are. Come here for a minute."

Obedient to his mother's command, he stepped inside the large tatami room his mother had commandeered. Seated before a low table, she was surrounded on all sides by foliage laid out on sheets as she constructed  _ikebana_  arrangements to compliment both the public and private rooms throughout the house, something she did every week.

Dropping to his knees on the pillow across from her, he waited to hear why he'd been summoned but Kazumi did not appear to be in any hurry to tell him. Quirking her head from side to side, she assessed the arrangement of bamboo stems and leaves set in a rock shaped vase. "Hmmm… hand me those morning glories, please."

"No, not those." She stopped him as he reached toward a mound of bright pink flowers. "The ones with the blue petal and pink funnel." Switching direction, he grasped a vine bunched with five flowers of such a deep indigo they almost glowed and placed them in her outstretched palm. She tucked them into the vase so they clustered around the base of the bamboo as if the delicate blooms were seeking shelter from a storm. "There. I think this would be nice for Natsumi-chan's room." She traced a finger around the edge of the petal. "So colorful. It reminds me of her, don't you think?"

"Hn." Personally, he thought a thistle would be a better representation of her personality.

His mother set the piece aside, reached into the sleeve of her  _yukata_  and pulled out an envelope. "This is for you." She set it before him on the table.

Opening it, he found two tickets for one of Tokyo's many aquariums. The corner of his mouth lifted in a smile, sometimes fate handed you exactly what you needed. It was such a simple answer to his problem he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it. Had his friends been around, it was the first thing Tamaki would have suggested.

"Being engaged doesn't alleviate you from the obligation to  _date,_ " she stated as if he hadn't understood her message. "Ah! Otou-san was the same way – thinking that just because our parents had settled things between them he didn't need to make any effort to court me." Picking up a camellia she began trimming its leaves into a more pleasing shape. "I soon set him straight on that score."

Registering the date on the tickets, his spirit fell. "Tomorrow, I agreed to help Niita-sensei prepare students for the 1st  _dan_  examination." Placing the tickets back in the envelope, he slid it back across the table.

"I'm sure I'll be able to arrange a replacement for you." She slid them back with a twinkle in her eye and steel in her voice. Setting aside the flower and pruning shears, she folded her hands atop her lap and leaned forward. Unconsciously, he straightened his ramrod back even further. "Takashi, the seriousness with which you take your duties as next head of the family is admirable, but there are times when your responsibility to your wife has to come first. And right now is one of them.

"It is so much harder to fix a poor foundation than to make sure it's built right in the first place. Living under one roof isn't enough, not in a house like this – you could easily go months without exchanging a word. Setting aside time for just the two of you, time to get to know each other, is critical." Perceptive eyes pinned him in place. "Especially when your own heart is unsettled."

Embarrassment tinged his cheeks and he turned his head to avoid the scrutiny of one of the only two people who could always tell when he was troubled. Picking up the envelope, he gave in to the inevitable. "Thank you. I think Natsumi-chan will enjoy it - she seems fond of the koi pond."

Koi and Jane Austen, a very thin thread indeed.

"Go, then. Have fun." She shooed him away and he stood up to take his leave. "And, Takashi," she stopped him on his way out the door, "Make sure you ask properly. Don't just grunt at her and expect her to know what you mean."

He turned, smiling at the teasing lilt of her voice and gave the bow of a subject before his emperor. "Hai, Okaa-san."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit longer of a delay than I'd planned - had some writer's block with this chapter until I got a better grasp on what needed to happen. Thanks to all the who've left kudos huge thanks to all those who've left a comment. Hope y'all stick with me when things start getting rough after the next chapter or two (evil grin).


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